


Transcient Permanence

by ReadingIsFundamental



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, F/M, Pre-Portal, Romance, fluff at points, i don't even know man, post-portal eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:17:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4982374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadingIsFundamental/pseuds/ReadingIsFundamental
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mabel finds Grunkle Ford in his room moping over a box of old books, she decides to coax his love story out of him. She learns about love in its purest state. Innocence. Passion. It's something to be intimate, sacred, and open at the same time; something that Stanford Pines, the genius of Backupsmore University, had to learn the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Gravity Falls in any way, shape, or form. All rights belong to Alex Hirsch. I just like writing about his characters.

On one of the cooler days of the Oregon summer, Stanford Pines stood in his room, admiring the way the sun filtered through the trees and onto the rug. He wondered silently if he ever realized he missed that when he got sucked into the portal. He stared at his disheveled bookshelf and sighed, with the unicorn hair protecting the house, he had one less thing to worry about, but in the past few weeks that he'd been back he hadn't gotten around to cleaning his old room.

 Getting started cleaning was never a problem with Ford; he always got himself motivated to get through at least one thing. Finishing things had never been a problem until he got out of the portal. When he'd start organizing something, his hand would brush a familiar item or a certain smell would bring memories rushing back and send him into an hour long stupor.

 A box suddenly fell off the shelf, begging to be noticed, and brought him back into the here and now. Blowing the dust out of his face, he bent over and examined the box, only to have his heart break at the contents. Guilt washed over him like waves crashing against the rocks of the New Jersey beaches he grew up on. It was only a matter of time before he found the books again.

 Stanford brought the cardboard box over to his makeshift bed-sofa and pulled out the first book. It was old and could very well be dated by its cover art alone.

_The Mystical Adventures of Sable Clyne_ by Francesca Wilhelm 

The young girl on the novel's cover reminded him of Mabel; the way she struck her pose with confidence and truth with her unicorn companion at her side. A fond smile ghosted his lips when he realized it wouldn't be a far stretch to guess that His grand-niece had read every book in the series. He flipped the book over in his hands and opened the back cover to stare at the picture of the author. He locked eyes with her bright hazel ones and almost thought he heard a faint laugh on the wind as it shook the trees with its gentle caress.

 "Grunkle Ford!!!" Mabel laughed out loud as she came bounding into his room without a trace of knocking. He had become accustomed to this, as it was a common occurrence the more comfortable the two had become with each other over the weeks.

 "Hello Mabel," Stanford greeted his niece as he set the box on the ground, almost thankful for the distraction. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to come out and--ooh, what's that?" She reached for the book that still lay beside him on the couch. Mabel climbed up, without invitation, and plopped herself down next to Stanford, the book now in her hand. She raised an eyebrow at him when she saw the cover. "Unicorns?"

It was understandable to see where she was coming from, especially after her most recent encounter with the unsavory creatures.

Stanford blushed bright red at her insinuations and shook his head, "It's a great story, and besides, the author was..." He bit his lip, still quite unsure what to call that which once was. Mabel flipped to the back cover and stared at the picture of the young woman before staring back at her Grunkle with a small smirk. "...a friend. She was a good friend."

Mabel's eyes widened and her jaw dropped, exposing her pink-banded braces. She squealed before jumping off of the couch and standing in front of Stanford, playfully slapping his knees. "Ohoho, Grunkle Ford, you sly dog! You have to tell me all about your lover!!" She bounced up and down on the carpet as the old man sputtered before her.

"She...we...I..uh...it's not..." He stammered, but Mabel was too far gone to care. She gasped and clung to his knees, practically throwing herself into his lap.

"It couldn't have been unrequited, could it?" She asked, staring up at him with her big ole' eyes. Stanford bit his lip and sighed, much to Mabel's dismay. "Noooo, Grunkle Ford, you didn't--"

"It wasn't unrequited, but it was...complicated." Stanford spoke up and over the loud tween girl, who scrambled to the plush rug to sit at her grunkle's feet. Mabel stared up at Stanford with awe, expecting a wonderful tale.

"I mean, you wouldn't want to hear me grumble about old flames; it's not very interesting, trust me." Stanford insisted, but then again, so did Mabel.

"Any love story is a story worth hearing!" She smiled sweetly, still holding onto the old book, earning an endearing smile from Stanford.

"Well...if you put it that way." He thought for a moment, always one for a good story. Besides, who could it hurt?

"It all started in the Backupsmore library..." Stanford trailed off, leaving out some choice details about the exact meeting. As he closed his eyes, the memory started playing like a movie on the backs of his eyelids. Every scent, sound, and smell came rushing back all at once and Stanford Pines found himself standing in the mystery section of the Backupsmore library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a brand new story I'm writing when I have time. I haven't written anything in so long, so I apologize if I'm a bit rusty. Please be kind! I really hope you enjoyed this prologue, I guess. I don't really know if I'll post the rest of this, but who knows?


	2. The Dewey Decimal System and Carpet Tussels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Gravity falls or the characters; all rights belong to Alex Hirsch

_"A library is a place where you can lose your innocence without losing your virginity."_

-Germaine Greer

* * *

 

_1975_

 A library is a wonderful thing; a sacred tomb full of endless possibilities and wonder. The musty smell of old paper wafts through the aisles as pages flip in a constant, quiet, rhythm. Silence settles around the building comfortably as the sun's rays filter in through the cheap, institutional blinds, bathing the room in a mystical light that makes you want to walk on tiptoe or pretend to solve mysteries in a smoky detective's office under the guise of an inspector general.

 The Backupsmore University Library was no different, save for the strange stains littering the carpet and the half-eaten lunches left on the tables towards the back of the main room, but it was magical nonetheless. A safe haven for young intellectuals and for those who just need the quiet.

 A young Stanford Pines stood in the doorway of the University library and took in the sights, his curly, chestnut hair neatly trimmed and thick framed glasses wiped clean of any trace dust. It wasn't like he hadn't been there before, but every time he stepped through the door, comfort surged through his being and he felt like he was home.

There was only one other visible person sitting alone at one of the square tables near the back corner of the room. A young woman, looking to be no older than Stanford himself, was slumped over in her chair, huddling herself around the book she was reading. With the way she was hunched, her coffee colored tresses tickled the pages of her book. He had seen her here before, not that he thought about it too much; almost every time he's at the library, she was too.

 Stanford, knowing exactly what he wanted, ignored the girl and started towards the mystery section in a slow, contented walk. As he stood in front of the shelves he thought over what he wanted to read and went over his choices mentally, allowing his fingers to dance along the spines of the books as if he were tinkling the ivories of a baby grand.

 "Oh god" A whispered moan came from deeper within the aisles, startling Stanford ‘til his glasses slid down his nose.

 Abandoning the books, he glanced side to side, and saw no one. Curiosity killed the cat, as the old saying goes, and as Stanford separated two books to sneak a peek into the next aisle over, his ears turned pink. As quickly, and quietly, as he could manage, he placed the books back as they were, for lying there hidden behind a stack of books were the thrusting bodies of a young couple; their clothes pulled low on their bodies.

 "Mm..." Came another breathless whine. Stanford promptly turned his head and backed away from the shelf, completely shocked and disgusted at the fact that people chose to have those kinds of relations in HIS library.

 Stanford stared out of the aisle and locked eyes with the fair, young lady sitting at the table, her book now abandoned; her face bright red. She made a disgusted face and pointed to the aisle over with an unasked question lingering in the air. Stanford, embarrassed himself, nodded before walking towards the table to talk with her.

 "I can't believe someone's having sex in here!" She exclaimed in a terrible whisper upon his approach. She stood up and craned her neck so far to the left that Stanford thought she was going to fall over her own chair.

 "Wh-what are you doing?" Stanford asked, cursing his flustered state for making him stutter.

 "I wanna see who it is; maybe I know them." She explained as she placed one hand on the table and one hand on Stanford's upper arm to steady herself. "It would be a great way to really get back at someone, you know?"

  Public displays of affection, or rather, closeness wasn't exactly Stanford's forte, and having a pretty girl's hand burning a hole through his arm, merely made his mind race. Normally if he had run into a couple showing any remote PDA around him, he would grimace and try to get whatever he was there for and leave. If he was romantic as he was smart, he wouldn't possibly get as flustered as he did, and yet he stood firmly planted to the ground without a peep as the young woman held onto him for support.

 When finally she decided she couldn't see from her vantage point, she let go of Stanford and turned around to stare at him, knowing fully well that he hadn't responded to her in the first place. Her green eyes prodded his figure as she stared, methodically examining him with her author's eye. She was hyper-aware of Stanford Pines; from the fact that he wore a full-sleeve button down shirt in September, all the way down to the scent of his aftershave; a popular brand for men in the 70s.

 He was the reason she kept coming to the library to read, though she'd never admit it to anyone else. She would watch him from across the room and swoon to herself, knowing just how smart he was and just how easily he could have any girl in the entire school, but she would imagine that he would come to her table and talk with her one day. An eloquent conversation about intelligent things; a secret shared between fellow learners!

 He was endearing, and quite charming, the way he stood rod-straight when she took hold of his arm, and she couldn't believe what an idiot she was for saying what she had.

  _He probably thinks that I'm some kind of pervert!!_ She thought to herself and mentally hit herself over the head multiple times for her stupidity.

 "What's your name?" Stanford asked, dragging her out of her own prosecution, realizing that she was staring at his abdomen for quite some time. She quickly met his gaze once more, her bright hazel eyes trained onto his deep mahogany like a sniper.

 "Francesca, I mean, you can call me Frankie. Uh, Frankie Wilhelm" Frankie stumbled over her own words. "And you're, uh, Stanford Pines, right?"

 His thick eyebrows knit together in an unreadable expression. "You know my name?" Stanford could feel the lingering tingle of where she grabbed him as he watched her squirm.

 "I...uh, well...” She blushed and pushed some of her dark hair behind her ear, immediately dropping her gaze to the floor. "You're the genius science man of Backupsmore....I think everyone knows you."

 "Genius?" Stanford gave a chortle, making Frankie glance up at him as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm merely a man who chose to pursue a life of intelligence. I am in no way extraordinary..." He trailed off, but Frankie was far too distracted by his fingers. Stanford noticed her staring and locked his hands together behind his back.

 "Is it true that you have six working fingers on each hand, Stanford?" Frankie broached the topic that most did, but her wording and sweet smile urged the answer out of Stanford before he even knew it.

"Yes."

"May I see your hands, or is that too personal?" Frankie's face scrunched up like a child being reprimanded.

 Whether it was her soft, almond eyes, or her kind smile wrapped in full, pink lips, Stanford couldn't say no to her. His heart beat loudly in his chest as he placed his hand in her palm, dwarfing her own dainty ones. Her cold, smooth skin was a deep contrast against his hot, clammy hand; only getting worse due to her closeness.

Frankie manipulated his hand this way and that as she examined his extra digit. Stanford felt his stomach do a flip as she lined their hands up and then gazed at him with another smile.

 "You said that you're not extraordinary, but I have to disagree!" She stated. Stanford blushed at her compliment, and shook his head. "You may not see it the way I do, but I think that it's incredible to have an extra working finger! So not only are you irresistibly smart, but you're also an amazing miracle!" The young woman gushed, losing herself in her own words.

 "I-Irresistible?" Stanford choked out, blood rushing to the tips of his ears. Frankie was just as cherry red and it was obvious to any onlooker that she wanted to crawl under a rock and never leave. She dropped his hand and rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

 "I...uhh...”

 "Oh god yes!" A rather loud moan came from the aisle that started it all. Frankie and Stanford locked eyes and each in their turn swallowed the uncomfortable air that had settled in around them.

 "I should go" They both spoke at once and both immediately sputtered an apology before grabbing their individual things and bolting from their spots, making doubly sure not to run into each other on their way out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay...I'm weak, so sue me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know it's short, but hey they'll get longer.  
> I'm not gonna lie, I actually read this prompt for college AU shit and it was like "your otp meets in a library where two people are very obviously having sex, what are their reactions?" So yeah...that's how this story was created. *confetti*


	3. Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Gravity Falls, all rights belong to Alex Hirsch

_1975_

Frankie was an English major, specializing in the romanticism in British literature, not to mention two years under Stanford, so meeting the science-influenced young man wasn't an easy task. She chose to continue going to the library on the days she knew he would be there and they spoke each time, only a few sparse words in passing, but it was enough for the enamored young woman. Until one day, Stanford didn't show up.

 It was nearing Thanksgiving break, and the leaves had already parted from their trees to cover the earth below. The wind was brisk and the mornings were chilly with the November weather. Frankie sat in the library impatiently checking the front door every other minute as she fidgeted in her spot. She was dressed in a thick, cable-knit sweater much too large for her frame and a long deep brown skirt that reminded her of Stanford's eyes. She turned to the librarian, who was passing behind her to set books back on the shelves.

 "Excuse me ma’am?" Frankie reached out towards the older woman, who turned to her with a smile.

 "Yes?" She replied.

 "Well, you see, I'm waiting for someone and...well, I don't quite know where he is-"

"Are you talking about Stanford Pines?" She interrupted with a knowing smile, her widened eyes shimmering with mischief. Frankie blushed and nodded her head, to which the librarian furrowed her brows. "Well, I haven't seen him today, and he always comes in...Maybe he's caught cold?"

Dread tugged at Frankie's core as she thought of a bedridden Stanford, coughing and miserable. She scrunched up her nose, "I hope he's alright."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be quite fine." The librarian responded with a reassuring smile before striding away to finish putting the books away in their proper places.

Frankie grabbed her bag and threw it over her shoulder and then wrapped her scarf around her neck to keep the chill out. She left the library swiftly and started to descend the many steps when she heard hushed voices locked in a heated argument.

"-you'll have my paper done by Friday and you will make it believable." One man threatened, making Frankie shiver. She wanted to walk quicker and get to her dorm as fast as possible until she heard a familiar voice.

"For the last time; no. I would've thought that this childish behavior ceased after high school, but I guess when you go to a school called Backupsmore, you don't get the pick of the litter." Stanford's voice was clear and crisp in its deliverance, but there was a hint of annoyance. It was the sound of someone who had endured a lifetime of bullying and was unfazed by it.

Frankie looked left and right, searching for the source of the argument, until she caught a glance of one of Stanford's sweaters over the side of the stairwell. She quickly sat down on the step and stealthily watched the exchange, the wind nipping at her nose and cheeks.

"If you think you're too good for our school, why are you here?" The other man grit his teeth, his own voice rising out of anger. Stanford inhaled deeply and turned away from the other man. Stanford turned his head away and stared at the stairwell in disgust for the man in front of him, causing Frankie to get down so she wouldn't be noticed.

"So you're not good enough to get into your dream school that you'd been counting on and then you had to settle!" The bully cackled and bent over as if it were the funniest thing in the world. Frankie felt her blood boil in contrast to the cold stone she sat upon. "You're pathetic, you six-fingered freak!"

That did it. Frankie stood up and ran down the steps, holding onto her skirt so she didn't trip. "Hey you jerk, don't you think that bullying people is for children?" She snapped as she came around the corner, her hazel eyes burning. The man turned around, anger clear on his face. Stanford stared past him and looked shocked to see Frankie standing there with her hands on her hips, her skirt and scarf billowing in the wind looking like a comic book hero.

"Who the fuc-" The bully started, but Frankie held up her hand to silence him. 

"No-no, I'm talking." She said simply. "Stanford Pines is the smartest man on this campus, and so what if he had six fingers or five? That doesn't determine your greatness. You're just a jealous bully who hasn't grown out of high school yet." She narrowed her eyes and the bully just rolled his eyes, anger still clear on his contorted face.

"Whatever, you ain't worth it." He stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket and skulked off, pushing Frankie with his shoulder as he went.

"H-hey!" She yelped as she steadied herself. "Ugh, I hate people like that."

"Uh, you really didn't have to do that, but thank you, Frankie." Stanford rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Frankie stepped up to him and her gaze softened.

"I shouldn't have to! It's unfair that people pick on you because you're better than them!" She huffed. "And don't they know Backupsmore is nobody's first choice for college!?"

Stanford smiled down at the shorter girl with fondness. No one outside of family had ever stood up for him before, and as he watched Frankie let off steam he felt his heart flutter. The warm feeling was new, but not unwelcome.

"Well isn't Nobody so lucky that the acceptance rates are so high?" Stanford quipped, making Frankie look him in the eyes in confusion. She analyzed what he said for a solid minute until it clicked.

"Mr. Pines, was that a joke I just heard?" She raised a questioning brow and Stanford just laughed.

"I believe it was, Miss Wilhelm." He replied with a shy smile. He felt almost silly, the way he acted around her. Their banter, from the short time the duo had met, had been like something out of a Jane Austen novel; coy, shy, and flirtatious. (Although he could never tell you if she was joking or not; it was hard to tell sometimes where her jokes began and where they ended.) 

The November wind kicked up and brought a shiver down Stanford's spine, much to Frankie's worry. Leaves danced around on the ground as the couple stood staring at each other, Stanford’s cheeks red from the wind nipping at them

"Stanford, how long have you been out here without a coat?" She asked, already untying her scarf. She handed the article to him, which he took shyly, but nonetheless thankful.

"I hadn't planned to stand out here and argue for thirty minutes, but that guy had other ideas." He tied the scarf around his neck, the floral smell of her perfume faint, but distinguishable.

"Well then, do you... I mean...would you like to get...coffee-" Frankie, all the previous fight in her gone, stumbled over her words and fidgeted, kicking the toe of her boot on the ground. Stanford's heart raced and he couldn't seem to get his mind to calm down.

"Coffee? With you? Now?" He asked, all too eager.

"Yes. Do you-"

"Yes." He responded almost immediately, and then stood pin straight, as if he were frozen.

"Good." She replied automatically. "I mean, uh, alright. Let's go."

The walk to the campus coffee shop was an awkward and quiet one. Both would try to start conversation at the same time, stutter an apology, and then almost as quickly as it left, silence settled back over the young couple.

Stanford held the door open for her to walk through first and followed suit. Frankie stepped up to the register and ordered for herself and then turned towards Stanford.

"What do you want?" She asked, "I'm paying."

"Wait, no you're not." He argued with an easy laugh, "it's the least I can do."

"Well…” She acted as if she had to think it over, but in the end she nodded, “If you insist." She stood by his side as he ordered, their hands a breath away from one another. After he paid, he pointed out a booth bathed in the sleepy, evening light from the adjacent window. The couple slid into the booth and silence followed. The two stared at each other as if they had everything to say and nothing at all. She watched him with doe eyes, frozen at the prospect of being on a date with The Campus Genius.

Stanford couldn't tear his gaze away from the young woman, her eyes hypnotizing him. Now that he truly looked at her, she was quite pretty. Prettier than any girl he had ever been on a date with before, with her fair skin and high, rosy cheeks and dark hair curled neatly at her collar bone. He considered himself lucky.

 

* * *

_Present Day_

"Grunkle Ford, was it love at first sight?" Mabel prodded, a goofy grin plastered on her face. The sun had began to set over Gravity falls, bathing the room in an orange light.

Stanford chuckled, "Not exactly...I mean, not on my end at least. Francesca told me once that before we met she had her eye on me." He said, pride swelling within.

Mabel rolled her eyes, "You sure are dense, if you didn't realize she liked you at this point!"

Stanford winced, "Well, I wasn't exactly the best with women back then. But that's beside the point!"

The young tween groaned in response, lying down on the ground to stare up at the ceiling. "When do you fall in love with her?"

Stanford chuckled and stared up at the ceiling as if in reverie, "At this point in the story, I guess you could say I already did." Mabel have her Grunkle a scrutinizing glance and he just sighed wistfully. "Geniuses fall in love quickly with people who are nice to them. I was merely following a pattern."

"That's so sad..." Mabel said as she sat back up.

"Maybe...but I was lucky, I found a good one." Stanford smiled.

His young niece was quiet for a moment as she thought his words over, before growing bored. "What happened next?"

"We talked, we shared our dreams, aspirations, and it was…great." Stanford replied dreamily. "She was the only close friend I had for a while."

"What about Grunkle Stan?"

"We weren't talking at that point." Stanford replied curtly, signaling the end of that conversation.

The two sat in thoughtful silence for the longest five minutes in the world. The time ticked by slowly and Mabel stole a glance at Stanford when she thought he wasn't looking. It was weird to think that the nerdy old man she knew had old flames, especially the way he spoke about the past with venom. It made her think that he wasn't into love, but she'd been wrong before.

"What did you two do on your coffee dates?" Mabel piped up after a considerable amount of time.

Stanford, coaxed out of his own silence, snorted with a smug grin, "you mean besides drink coffee?"

Mabel rolled her eyes, "Yeah, besides drinking coffee!"

"Well, we talked, a lot actually. I think the most talking I ever did was on those dates...I just couldn't seem to stop." He trailed off, a small smile crinkling his old eyes. "She had that kind of effect on me."

"Grunkle Ford that's so romantic!!" Mabel gushed, almost squealing. "Tell me more!!"

"Alright, alright"

* * *

_1975_

The coffee dates were almost every other day after the first one, each one growing more and more comfortable. After about the fourth one, the coffee shop would leave the booth near the window open for the young couple they knew were going to come.

 It was around the sixth date that Frankie told him about her six brothers and sisters at home, and how crazy the household was. She delved into dozens of stories about how her older brothers picked on her when she was a kid because she fell out of a tree and knocked her front two teeth out. She regaled him with the various nicknames given to her throughout the years that only made Stanford laugh. To which she promptly scowled, swearing to find his embarrassing secrets.

"So you're the oldest?" Stanford questioned once he had stopped laughing, almost in awe. Sure people in his hometown had large families, but no one he knew had six kids! No one had the room for them all in New Jersey.

"Well, the third oldest," she started and scratched the back of her head with a nervous laugh. "I have four brothers and a sister. Two older brothers and the rest are younger." She reached into her book bag and pulled out her light beige wallet. Inside were a couple of crumpled bills and within one of the pockets Frankie slipped an old photo out of a pocket, worn from the constant removal and replacement going on inside her wallet. Stanford assumed that she happily showed it to as many people she could and, for some reason, he felt jealousy pool in the bottom of his stomach.

"You see?" She placed the small photo in his large hands and smiled fondly as he examined it. There was a tired-looking, but no less happy, older couple surrounded by children of varying ages. He could easily spot Frankie because she was the only one holding a baby girl. "I mean, it's a dated picture, but it's one of my favorites. Do you have any siblings?" She asked innocently.

Stanford stiffened and handed the photo back quickly. "I, uh, have a younger brother. That's it."

Frankie winced, her nose scrunching up as if she had stepped in something gross, "Sore subject?" Stanford sipped his coffee in silence and she knew that she had hit the nail on the head. "Well, don't worry; I've had plenty of friends who've had rough home lives, and as far as I'm concerned, you're already a part of my household now!" She joked, but immediately regretted it.

If one could glance back in time to the most embarrassing recorded use of the term ‘sister-zoned’, one would see a picture of a very red, very mortified, Francesca Wilhelm. She knew that what she felt was more than platonic, but it definitely wasn't familial! Frankie cursed herself for her stupidity, especially when Stanford started to laugh.

"I don't think, in the history of my life, anyone has tried to adopt me into their family. I appreciate it." He conveniently left out the part where he would mention that he never had any real friends aside from his brother, but Frankie never pried.

"Well you know me; defender of the weak and protector of the nerdy!" She proclaimed and struck a pose similar to the comic books she and Ford would read when he wasn't helping her with her science classes.

"Hey, I resent that statement!" Stanford gave her a challenging look, but couldn't keep a straight face, which only caused them both to burst into laughter. 

A comfortable silence fell over the couple as they drank their coffee and watched the winds dance with the leaves from behind their window. It was the kind of silence that lulls the contributors into a type of contentedness that only trust can bring. It brought Frankie into the very depths of her mind, where her day dreams and memories are barely distinguishable. She thought about Stanford and where their friendship began and how they got to this point. As she reviewed all the cringe-worthy things she said in her absolute love struck state upon their first meeting, she wondered if he remembered it the way she did.

“Stanford?” She asked.

“Hmm?” Came his reply, his eyes darting towards her own with interest. A kind of gaze that any attention-seeker lived for. The gaze of a rapt and active listener.

“Do you remember what I said when you first showed me your hands?” She asked and Stanford swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Frankie took a dainty sip of her coffee as she waited for his reply.

“That I was…irresistible?” He guessed meekly, flushed bright red. Frankie almost choked on her coffee, having forgotten all about that.

“I-I-I….uh….I mean, yeah. But, I meant what I said about your hands specifically.” She clarified.

“Oh…” Stanford replied. He didn’t have to think too hard about it; it was the nicest thing someone had said about him. Not about his intelligence. Not about him and his brother. But, about Stanford himself. He grinned gently at Frankie, making her breath catch. “You told me that I was a miracle.”

“Yeah,” She said breathlessly. Stanford had never smiled at her like that; so genuinely sweet with just the right amount of shyness in it. She shifted in her chair, trying to regulate her breathing once more before finishing her sentence. “I really meant it, you know? They’re like a birthmark or a hidden talent; they make you special.”

Stanford’s lips twitched weakly, “What a pretty sentiment.” After a moment of strained silence Stanford stood up and offered his hand. “It’s getting late, we should probably go…can I walk you to your dorm?”

Frankie’s heart flutter in her chest before the words left his mouth and she nodded feverishly, “I would love that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a reaaaallly long chapter, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! I'm just continue to update and see if people leave comments. Anyway, I hope Stanford isn't too OOC, but what do you guys think of Frankie so far?


	4. Baby It's Cold Outside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own GF, all rights belong to Alex Hirsch

 

  _“Even the strongest blizzards start with a single snowflake”_ – Sara Raasch

_The first week of December 1975_

 

"So if the two atoms bond, then what...wait, Stanford I really don't understand this." Frankie sighed and threw her pencil down before grabbing her cup and chugging the hot coffee inside for emphasis.

 Stanford, having the patience of a teenage boy, pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Having gone over the same problem over and over, and experiencing freshman chemistry himself two years ago, he was tired of thinking about it!

 The duo, tired of their usual meeting places, decided to have their tutoring session inside Stanford's apartment. It was close to the campus cafe and closer than the library, so it was an easy decision to make. It wasn't anything fancy; a one room flat with a bed, a small kitchen, a tiny table with just enough room for two, and a cluttered desk area complete with an overflowing bookshelf and a landline.

 The two sat together at the small table hunched over chemistry books with their to-go coffee cups on the side, papers decorating the tabletop and piles of books on the floor.

 "Frankie, I told you three times now," he started and then took a deep breath, “It's not that hard! I think even a kindergartener could do this!"

 "Well excuse me, mister science man, I'm so sorry that us plebs don't understand your genius! Let me bow and scrap to make you feel better!" She quipped, folding her arms and resting them on the table with a glare that wasn't quite as menacing as she would like it to be.

"It's not my fault you can't understand simple equations!" He grumbled, mirroring her pose by folding his own arms in front of his chest.

"Actually, my dear tutor whom I pay with coffee, it is." Frankie argued, leaning forward until she was in his face. Stanford reddened from his neck to the tips of his ears (whether from embarrassment or irritation is still up for debate).

"I...you...uh," Stanford stammered, desperately trying to find an excuse. If he were better at separating the logic from human emotion (as he would be many, many years from now), he would acknowledge that, as her tutor, it was his fault she wasn't retaining the information. But, as a twenty-year old man in college, testosterone is much more powerful than one's conscious mind.

"It wouldn't be my fault if you just paid attention in your classes." He complained grumpily, not meeting her eyes. Frankie knew that she had won, but she wanted to play a little longer.

"Please, oh great and wonderful tutor, set aside your pride and just admit you're a terrible teacher," she smirked, sitting back down in her seat with a content plop.

"Oh, huh, maybe if that were true, I'd admit it," Stanford replied, a challenging gleam in his eye and a smirk on his lips "But, I'm afraid, as long as there is nothing to admit then I will remain in within myself."

Frankie, rising to his challenge, narrowed her eyes. "If there's nothing to admit, Stanford, then why are you on the defense?"

A strained silence settled between the two as they stared into each other's eyes. After a moment of the tense match of stubbornness, Frankie turned her gaze outside and took a sip of her coffee, content with what she felt was stumping Stanford. He, however, was the first to break the quiet.

"I could go back and forth with you, all day, Frankie, or," Stanford paused for dramatic effect before sighing loudly and giving her a defeated smile, "I could just tell you that-

"Stanford oh my gosh,” Frankie exclaimed suddenly, rising from the table, “it's snowing!!" She placed her dainty hands on the frosted window, looking out in excited awe.

"-that you need to focus more." Stanford put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Seriously, Stanford look!" Frankie hopped away from the window, any hint of their feisty banter gone. She took ahold of his arm and yanked him up from his chair with alarming strength. She pulled him over to window next to her, their sweatered shoulders touching.

"I just love winter!!" She sighed dreamily as she watched the fluffy flakes fall in dizzying patterns. She held onto his arm as they watched the snowfall in silence.

Minutes of watching passed and Frankie finally spoke, "Sorry I called you a bad teacher, Stanford."

Stanford looked down at her, only just realizing how small she actually was, and gave her a small smile. "I guess I owe you an apology as well. I shouldn't have been short with you; I guess I just forget that certain subjects can be hard for others to master."

"Not everyone can be a genius," Frankie chuckled in good nature, but Stanford shrugged her arms off of his own.

"You keep throwing that word around, but I don't know...never mind." Stanford sat back down at the table and stared at the adjacent wall with calculating eyes. Frankie watched as his eyes darted back and forth behind his glasses and as he brought a finger to his mouth to chew absentmindedly at his nail. He was thinking.

Not wanting to disturb his process, Frankie turned back to the window to watch the snow pile up on the ground. Dancing with the winds, the tiny flecks of ice reminded her of a ballroom made of snow. How interesting that would be, she thought. To waltz across the frozen floor with nothing but your partner’s hand to keep you warm. How romantic. Frankie swooned, her mind drifting off to thoughts of Stanford in a prince’s garb, offering her a dance. She would gracefully curtsy, holding her dress in one hand, taking ahold of his gloved one in another. Dream-Stanford swept her off the floor and they swayed in time to the symphonic melodies from see-through instruments made completely out of ice.

The young woman looked back out onto the landscape, the evening sun would set soon and the night’s chill would keep the snow around for a while longer. She eyed the ground and smirked. The way the freshly fallen snow stuck securely to the apartment grounds gave her an idea.

"I'll be right back," She said, grabbed her coat, scarf, and earmuffs from his bed and left without another word.

Stanford didn't even look away from the wall until there was a muffled knock at his window some time later. Brought out of his reverie, he stood up and glanced around the small space. "Frankie?"

The thud sounded again and he quickly raced to the window and saw clumps of snow stuck on the glass, but beyond that he could see a smiling Francesca Wilhelm writing something in the snow as someone would at a beach in the sand. He squinted and then rolled his eyes.

 

F O R D   I S   A   N E R D

 

Frankie smiled at her handy work and then turned to the window and laughed with pure glee written on her face. It would be difficult for even the most stoic person to not return the smile, and Stanford couldn’t help but laugh himself. He motioned for her to hold on so he could grab his own coat and scarf and head outside.

By the time he arrived, she was already working on the bottom part of what looked to be a poorly done snowman. The bottom was lopsided and the top was too round, but Stanford believed that she could make it work. Stepping outside into the cold was a bit more than he had anticipated, but seeing Frankie roll up a giant snowball for her snowman’s middle made him cozy.

That cozy feeling dissipated when Frankie attempted to set the large ball of snow and ice on top of the other two and ended up slipping and tossing the snow into the air. Stanford could only watch as the snow flew into the air and, just a quickly, fell right on top of her with a quiet sloshing noise. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud as she struggled under the weight.

“I’m really glad you’re having fun, but this is really cold!” Frankie laughed and wriggled around on the ground, desperately trying to get free. This only made Stanford laugh harder. He doubled over, cackling like a madman.

“Stanford~,” Frankie called in a sing-song voice, causing Stanford to look up, but not stop his laughing, only to receive a face full of snow. The cold substance stuck to his glasses and he recoiled from the freezing temperature. It was now Frankie’s turn to laugh.

Somehow Frankie made wiggled her way out of the snow and the two started a snowball fight, each having built their own snow wall to protect them from the other team’s onslaught. The match eventually ended in a stalemate, neither side claiming victory.

Through chattering teeth, Frankie sang from behind her wall, _“I really can’t stay!”_

Stanford echoed back, a fond smile growing on his lips, _“But, baby it’s cold outside!”_

Almost shocked, Frankie blushed. Stanford’s voice wasn’t trained, it wasn’t beautiful, but it was so wonderfully Stanford and she couldn’t help but believe that it was her favorite in the world. She rose from her safe spot behind her wall, her breath shrouding her in a puff of dragon smoke. _“I’ve got to go away-“_

_“But baby it’s cold outside~,”_ Stanford sung right back and sat on top of his sturdy wall of snow. The odd duo stared at one another, engaged wholly in each other’s being. The sun had set an hour into their snowball fight, leaving the world in the first of many cold nights that year. Frankie was the first to cease the lull in the song when a shiver danced down her spine.

“S-seriously, though, St-Stanford, I’m really c-cold.” She stuttered, with an embarrassed chuckle and Stanford gave her a lighthearted grin, having hoped to continue their song.

“Well then,” He started, standing from his wall and stepping towards her, “Let’s go make some cocoa, okay?”

Frankie smiled and nodded happily, “Sounds g-good…wait a sec, have you been holding out on me this entire time?!” She lightly punched his arm and he shrugged with a laugh.

“First one to the apartment gets my biggest mug!” Stanford exclaimed and took off in a loping jog to get back to his home. Frankie simply couldn’t stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, to anyone who actually read this! I was super busy this week, but um here it is in all it's disappointing glory. I promise the next chapter will be ten times better!! Anyway, I really enjoy comments, and know what I can work on! thank you for reading and being wonderful.


	5. Using Winter As A Literary Device pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie and Stanford meet up to exchange Christmas gifts, but the snow picks up heavily

Cold winds blew, shaking the bare trees to their cores. The campus was deserted, sans the few stragglers mulling around with luggage in their gloved hands, a light snowfall beginning to dance around their flushed faces, bright with holiday prospects.

Standing near the campus gates by an old hand-me-down car, the model couldn't have been any newer than 61', was Stanford Pines. His cheeks and nose were pink and he rubbed his own gloved hands together quickly for warmth as he waited.

Frankie told him that she had something to give him, sending his heart into overdrive. Just the thought of having her close enough to touch almost kept him warm enough to stand outside without a coat. Almost.

Stanford triple-checked that he had everything he needed for the trip home; presents, study supplies, clothes, and finally, his eyes lingered on a manila packet sitting on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat. He took in a deep breath of cold air and watched it leave his lips like dragon smoke.

"Stanford!" Frankie called as she ran up and through the gates, a huge smile on her face. He turned around at the sound of his name, and the cold atmosphere dissipated. Whenever she was near, warmth was too.

"Hey, Frankie," he greeted. She was dressed warmly, a thick, navy coat, winter boots, earmuffs, and a bright yellow scarf that wrapped snugly around her lithe neck. She was holding a box wrapped with a distinct red plaid paper and a gold bow, making Stanford wonder; was that for him? He admonished himself; _of course, it was for him!_ That's why they were meeting in the first place.

His heart thundered in his chest, leaving him breathless. He glanced back in his car, first eying the manila folder then the small box sitting amongst the other presents in the back seats, gift wrapped in brown paper, ordered specially from a catalog he'd seen a girl reading in the library.

He had approached the girl in the library, nervous at first, but the shining jewel on the page urged him to continue. When he asked her about it, she gushed about how sweet he was to buy something so expensive for his girlfriend, to which he laughed nervously. Stanford hadn't even thought about the price, but it took writing others' essays for pay every day for three weeks for him to save up enough money. He just wanted to see her smile.

That was the first moment he knew he had it bad. He placed her happiness above all and relished the moments when he could see her precious smile. Frankie made him do all the things he had once scoffed at. He listened to the love songs and empathized with every word, he found himself in front of the romance section of the library (though never daring to actually read one of the books with the shirtless men on the cover), and he daydreamed so often he ended up running into walls, much to the concern of other students. She was on his mind 24/7 and during class, he couldn't help but imagine all the things he would want to do with her. Picnics in the middle of beautiful meadows, the couple reading their own books but sitting so close that they could feel each other's heat, showing up to Christmas dinner with her on his arm, a spectacle for his small family, or even just napping together in the same bed, innocent and pure. But the dreams he had at night were the ones he wished he could never leave.

In a church he'd seen on the rare Sunday when Filbrick Pines would gather the whole family in the family car and dragged them to church, Stanford stood dressed in the fanciest tuxedo money could buy. Next to him would be his brother, in an almost identical suit, an endearing smile on his face as an angel dressed in white slowly made her way down the aisle. Stanford's heartbeat slowed the closer she got, and the closer she got the more beautiful she became. It was the most ecstasy-inducing dream someone in love could have, but by the time he woke up, he realized all the problems with his fantasies and only grew angry. Angry with his brother, at Backupsmore, and mostly at his own nervousness.

Frankie threw her arms around his neck and squealed, dragging him out of his reverie. "It's been ages, I missed you!!" He stiffened before melting into her touch and wrapping his arms around her middle. He swallowed thickly and breathed in her sweet perfume.

"It's...uh... only been two weeks," Stanford said quietly, as if he only wanted Frankie to hear it. He could feel her heartbeat race against his chest and something about it made him more confident.

"I was being hyperbolic..." She said lamely as she pulled her arms away and separated their bodies. "Don't tell me you were counting the days until we could see each other again!" She smirked and faked swooned. "Stanford Pines, you're such a dreamboat!"

Stanford laughed weakly, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. "Well, you know me; Dreamboat Pines."

"You're such a dork," she snorted and then smiled fondly up at him, "Merry Christmas, Dork!" Frankie held out the plaid box, her smile growing.

"Merry Christmas, Smaller-Dork," a harsh wind made the tiny flecks of snow pelt Stanford's face, and brought a shiver down his spine. "You look too happy to be out in this cold weather!" Stanford couldn't help but smile back nervously before taking the present out of her hands and quickly replacing it with the package from the car.

"I just love Christmas time! It's always so nice to spend time with friends and family. Not to mention, I think winter is so romantic." She looked up at him through her lashes, gauging his reaction. Stanford appeared to be listening, but he went rigid. "...as a literary device it's the perfect setting for characters to fall in love, forces them together you know?" She weakly added with a small laugh that eased her friend's posture if only a tiny bit.

"Well Miss Romanticism, let's get in the car where the heat is so we can open our presents and not freeze to death, okay?" Stanford held the plaid gift in one hand and opened the passenger side door with the other, motioning for her to sit down. "Your carriage, m'lady"

"Thank you my good sir," Frankie took her place and Stanford closed the door behind her with a definite click then went around and got in on the other side.

Stanford turned the heat on full blast and the two settled in with their presents in their laps. Wrapped the warmth of the car and Frankie's presence, all Stanford's worries dissipated.

"Do you wanna go first?" Frankie asked and Stanford shrugged.

"You can open yours first if you want to." He replied, but as she started on the paper, doubt stirred his mind. What if the gift was too much? Would she be uncomfortable receiving such an extravagant gift? What was just was a comfortable warmth became a stifling heat.

Paper removed, the velveteen jewelry box stayed Frankie's hands. She turned to look at Stanford, who was staring back hard. He was posed in the most stressful way, as if he were about to take the hardest test he could manage. Diffusing a bomb would less stressful than this.

Frankie opened the box and her heart stopped. Staring back at her from within the box was a gorgeous violet pendent no bigger than her thumb nail.

"It's uh...a tanzanite!" Stanford said nervously, "it was only found back in '67 in a place called Tanzania in Africa, so I'm sorry it's not anything you might know, I justthoughtitwouldlookreallygoodonyou." He mumbled, staring down at the steering wheel he gripped so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Stanford," Frankie started. He looked up and was startled by the sight before him. She clutched the box to her heart and her lip quivered. Her voice warbled with emotion as she spoke, "this is the most extravagant thing anyone has ever given me."

She wiped at her eye and smiled earnestly, "Thank you. So much."

Stanford was speechless. There wasn't a word to describe the young man's strange mixture of emotions. It was somewhere between relief and a stress related ulcer. Whatever it was, He knew that he liked it. It was exciting, empowering, and the exhilarating rush made him want more. Butterflies fluttered mercilessly around his stomach. All the while, Frankie had clasped the gem around her neck and admired it. The purple stone caught the light and shone a brilliant blue.

"Your turn," She said, tearing her eyes off the jewel for a split second to look up at Stanford, who, in turn, looked at the present in his lap.

The box was wide; he could tell it did not hold much, as it was too shallow. As he eyed the box, the way a scientist would an experiment, Frankie's stomach fell. "It's not gonna be as good as what you got me, but just know I worked really hard on it!!" Her cheeks flushed and Stanford stopped his gift-probing to spare a glance at her. He gave her a small smirk and put one finger under the plaid paper and ripped upwards, tearing the immaculate wrapping to reveal a common foldable box that one would put clothes-

"Stop analyzing it! Not everything is a science project," she huffed, only making Stanford laugh and open the box.

Stanford's eyes widen when he sees the contents. A hand-knitted red sweater sat, neatly folded inside. He took the thick sweater in both hands and eyed it carefully. It was obviously handmade, and the black FW embroidered on the very bottom gave him an indicator as to just who spent the time and resources.

"You made this?!" He asked and she nodded shyly. "That's incredible, and you say that you're only average! How long have you known how to knit?"

All the blood in her body rushed to her face as she admitted, "Actually I just learned a few weeks ago from the librarian, Mrs. Goldrige. I was asking her what to get someone you lik-....uh, someone who's not materialistic and she told me that everyone enjoys a homemade gift. So yeah."

Stanford flushed bright red. _Did she almost say like?_ He reprimanded himself for his eagerness. She couldn’t possibly feel anything more than their platonic relationship. As he stared at the warm sweater in his hands, he felt his heart flutter in his chest like a butterfly trapped in a child’s mason jar and he spared the thought that maybe, just maybe, Frankie might feel something more. After all, one doesn’t go through hand-knitting someone a sweater if they don’t feel anything for them.

Frankie cleared her throat and Stanford realized he was stuck in his own thoughts once again. Their eyes met as he brought himself back into the real world. “Thank you, Frankie.” He smiled sincerely, holding the sweater close to his chest. “No one’s ever made me anything before.”

Frankie beamed up at him and opened her mouth to speak when the car emitted a sound that can only be compared to that of an old man’s coughing fit. Not a second later, the dashboard went dark as the car shut off and died. Stanford cursed and set the sweater on Frankie’s lap as he tried to start his car again. Once, twice, no dice. The old clunker had wheezed its last breath.

“How am I supposed to get home?!” Stanford winced, thinking about the awkward call he would have to make to his parents. He could almost feel the guilt trip from where he sat. Frankie sighed, blowing her bangs out of her face, clouding her vision with the heat of her breath. She looked out the window; the soft snowfall had picked up its pace and turned into a full out blizzard.

 

Then it clicked.

 

_Winter is romantic._ It forces people together. Frankie’s jaw dropped as her mind raced through different scenarios inside Stanford’s apartment. She eyed the snow outside and her hopes got higher.

“Uh…Stanford?”

“What?” The stressed young man asked pitifully, lifting his head off the steering wheel.

“Even if you got the car started, there’s really no way you could drive in this weather.” Frankie motioned for her companion to look out the window. He did and groaned. “You can’t even see very far ahead…”

“That’s just perfect!” Stanford took a deep breath and sighed.

 

Then it clicked.

 

His heart raced and the words were out of his mouth before he could overanalyze them. “Come on, my apartment is the closest and I don’t think you could get to your dorm with this…blizzard.”

Frankie nodded feverishly and unbuckled her seatbelt as Stanford gathered his things. The two exited the car, bundling themselves tighter.

Stanford had recently cleaned and organized his apartment so that once he had returned from holiday break; he could simply relax in the quiet. Upon stepping through the door, Stanford pushed the temperature up further and Frankie meandered further inside to the kitchen, where she’d stood many times making coffee, answering questions, and arguing over this and that. Stanford followed her to the kitchen, his face red from the cold and his glasses fogging up from the temperature difference.

“Could you start some-“

“Coffee?” Frankie smiled as she started unbuttoning her coat.

“Yeah, I just need to call my folks, let them know what happened.” With that, Stanford stepped back to the other side of the flat, where the phone sat on the wall.

After draping her coat across one of the chairs, Frankie smiled to herself. Stuck in a cute boy’s apartment was one way she could spend the start of her Christmas break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so so so so sorry about how late this came out! I meant to have this out before Christmas, but oh well life happened. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, more will come.   
> In other news I'M NOT READY FOR GF TO END HOLY SHIT! Now tfw no gf will mean so much more to me.


End file.
